A Riddling of Concerns
by orchidxxx
Summary: Hermione took the potion to find a way of ending the war, Riddle took it to find a way to gain immortality. What they actually found was each other. Set during DH, Hermione/Tom Riddle Jr
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

**1997**

Hermione shivered as another gust of cold struck her, shakily putting out a hand to steady her cauldron. The wind had been blowing at gale forces all day, making the brewing of the potion a nightmare. But Hermione had become convinced that this was their final hope, and it was with that resolve that she gritted her teeth to stop the chattering, and had gone back to work.

The idea had formed in Hermione's mind a couple of months ago, back when the three of them had been safe at the Burrow. It was a last resort option, but she had always been the type of person who liked having a plan B to turn to. It was now that Ron had left and Harry had been captured that she knew it was time to try it at least. As the days were passing she was becoming hopeless, and this for her was like the last sight of a loved one before going blind, the last note of a sweet song before going deaf. This for her was the last possible chance of victory before the weight of an entire war on her shoulders crushed her to dust.

Hermione glanced up into the sky with despair. Ron was out there somewhere, anywhere, probably being hunted by death eaters this very second. She didn't know how he'd survive; he had never had much magical talent, but his bravery had always pulled him through. That and the fact that she and Harry always had his back, just like he always had theirs. Until now that was; now he had left and was on his own, and had nobody to blame but himself for that.

Hermione had felt her feelings for Ron diminish over the last few days. As his betrayal sunk in, she realised that he was not the boy she thought he was. He had promised to stay, and still he had gone, even when she begged him not to leave. She knew fine well that the locket was affecting him, but he should have been able to fight it. She had, Harry had! Only Ron had broken his promise and caved under the pressure.

She still worried about him, and she was still scared by the thought of losing him. But the want to kiss him and be in his arms forever was gone now, and it was never coming back. He was back to being her best friend, and even then it would take her some time to forgive him for all he's done. That is if any of them got out of this alive.

The potion in front of Hermione turned a slimy green colour, and with a quick reference to the book, she was glad to realise that there was only one more step till the potion was ready. She patted the long grass around her, looking for her knife to chop up the next ingredient. Stretching out our arm to reach for it, she accidentally knocked the potions book off her lap, and as she bent to pick it up, her hands fumbled, causing the book to fall on the grass again. It splayed open, the pages creating a perfect arc, and she sighed as she stooped to pick it up again; her back aching from the night's sleep on tough ground. There, on the inside front cover of the book, she caught a glimpse of the Hogwarts logo. Its bright colours stood out on the pasty library sticker, a sight that she used to be so accustomed to seeing. Her mind began to reel back, all the way back to Hogwarts, when she was still just any other student.

Back then there had been no constant worrying about being killed. Even more importantly, there had been no constant worrying about the people she loved being killed. There had been no times when she wondered if, in a few years, there would be any good left in the world at all. No times when she truly believed that death may be the better option over life. Yet, even in the calming security of Hogwarts, she had still known that such a horrific time could come. So she had gone to the place she felt safest, the place where she could get answers: Hogwarts' library.

She was surprised when she had entered it to find all the tables empty, was there no one else in this school that appreciated the unimaginable amount of knowledge to be gained here, so large that no one person could ever learn it all. Sitting at a table, Hermione used the silence as a chance to think about the books that would be useful if she had to leave Hogwarts to help Harry.

By the time it was past curfew, she had three humungous stacks of book to take from the library, ranging from 'A muggle's guide to survival' to 'Dark wizards and their inner minds'. Appreciating the fact that she couldn't take them all, she started to eliminate the books that weren't going to be necessary for their fight. She had laughed when in the end she had kept the book about muggles and put back the one on dark wizards, thinking not for the first time about how bizarre it was that, despite the fact the muggle book would be more useful, Voldemort would choose the other option every time.

Then Hermione had done something which had seemed dreadfully awful back then: taken books from the library with absolutely no intention of putting them back. At the time she could hardly believe she had been so rebellious; but now that she had seen it all, such a small act like stealing seemed like nothing. She had hidden them in her suitcase until she got to the Burrow, where she had been sure she would have plenty of time to study them. But she hadn't anticipated Mrs Weasley's desperation to keep them apart, to the point that she ensured they had no free time to see each other. Also meaning no free time to read and organise crucial preparations.

Fortunately she had packed the essentials before Harry had arrived and before Mrs Weasley had taken an extreme interest in task assigning, but still she hadn't had much time with the books. During small breaks she had managed to learn a little about edible plants, just in case they had to hide in the forest (which, with the gift of hindsight, was a very valuable use of time.) But it was only on the last night, just before the wedding, that Hermione had time to scan over the potions book that held instructions for disillusionment concoctions, including the infamous Polyjuice potion.

She had been looking at the book for about half an hour when her concentration waned; she found herself turning the pages without any notice of what was on them, especially since she knew the majority of it. She sighed, tempted to give up, but thought she might as well read the last few pages. Her eyes widened with surprise though when she found a potion that had been dedicated the whole of the last two pages, as everything else had been previously half a page, a page max. Her focus was regained, and on closer inspection she found it to be a very complex potion, and a very powerful one. It had many ingredients that were not even to be found in Snape's cupboard, even ones she believed to be mythical. The potion's purpose: to rid the drinker of their greatest concern.

Her biggest concern was the war. This potion gets rid of the drinker's greatest concern. This potion could end the war. Hermione had no control over the feeling that encompassed her; the feeling that if all else failed then she could place her faith in this. She involuntarily smiled and she knew what she had to do. She had to find all the ingredients of this potion as soon as possible, no matter how difficult that may be.

As the potion turned a deep purple, Hermione was dragged back to reality. She felt freshly reminded of all the hope this potion held, and with that thought in mind she ladled the brew into a cup and swallowed the disgusting mixture in a single gulp.

_Well, I have been reading a lot of other's Tom/Hermione fics and I have fallen in love with this couple. So when I got the idea for my own story, I immediately started writing. Well I hope you enjoyed the first chapter, and please tell me what you think _


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**1944**

'Merlin's balls!' Tom Riddle threw his quill across the room, consumed with anger. He had been so damn close, so close to gaining the thing he wanted most in the world. All the work he had dedicated to it, all the time he had taken just to plan for it. It had taken months, even years to get to this point, and now, just because the aged prune had a clear prejudiced against him, it had all been for nothing.

He had been throwing things around for half an hour now, but the outburst was coming to an end, as he no longer had enough energy to be angry. He flopped into a chair, and scanned his dorm room. His usually perfect desk looked as if it had exploded: the papers that he always organised into designated piles were now scattered all over the room, and the many gifts from his admirers that had previously adorned his bed-side table were now destroyed, the remains sprinkled around the room. The room that was normally full of people was void of human life, as his followers had sensed his rage and fled. Riddle knew there would have to be punishment for their fleeing, nobody could be let away with things, or his complacency would be rewarded with betrayal.

It only took three quick waves of his wand and the papers were back in order and the frivolous gifts had been put in their rightful place: the bin. Riddle had never thought much of those who idolised him; they were not people of worth. They had no exceptional skills, no exceptional powers and ultimately, they would all be overcome by death. Riddle was going to ensure that was never him, he was never going to have his life end. Never going to wake up one day to find that there was nothing to wake up to and that all that remained of him was a handful of memories in some numbskull's minds. He was going to defeat death, become immortal; no matter what it took.

This was why every time he thought of a horcrux, an involuntary smile came on his face. It was an extremely useful tool, being able to smile at will. He often used it towards teachers and pupils alike, who all fell for his charming gentleman facade. The only person he could never fool was Dumbledore. Never once had Dumbledore shown any sign of seeing Riddle as anything more than the conniving evil megalomaniac he was, and this irritated Riddle to no end. He had never done anything at Hogwarts deserving of Dumbledore's suspicions, but Dumbledore had already seen him at his worst at the orphanage, when he was too young to understand the powers of concealment and manipulation.

It was this knowledge that had caused Dumbledore to take measurements against Riddle, such as trying to prove Hagrid's innocence in the Chambers of Secrets crime despite the fact Riddle had produce plenty of good evidence to prove Hagrid's guilt. And now, Dumbledore had inconveniently decided to remove the only book in the library that had the exact instructions to creating a Horcrux, which, there was no doubt in Riddle's mind, was no coincidence. Riddle had already read it multiple times and generally knew what to do, but without the book there was always the risk something could go wrong and that was not an option for the perfectionist.

Maybe there was something else he could do, something that could ensure him the eternal life he craved so much. He paced his room a few more times, trying to think of something. But when nothing came to mind he did as he always did when he felt troubled: he had gone to the place where he felt safest, the place where he could get answers: Hogwarts' library.

He was surprised when he had entered it to find all the tables empty, was there no one else in this school that appreciated the unimaginable amount of knowledge to be gained here, so large that no one person could ever learn it all. Sitting at one of the old wooden tables, Riddle used the silence as a chance to think about the books that might be useful in helping him acquire the means to crush death.

He walked past the many shelves, his eyes skimming the titles for anything useful. He sneered with disgust when he saw a book titled 'A muggle's guide to survival', as if any wizard would need tips for survival from those muggles. They're practically apes, how does anyone think they could have any useful input towards us superior magical beings? He scoffed again and moved on, just the sight of a book about muggles making him feel unclean.

He went through a wide selection of books looking for any hint of immortality, with no success. He was close to giving up for the day, until a new idea compelled him to stay. People had to be punished for their treachery, that was the reason why Riddle tortured his inferiors so frequently. So why had he been so quick to forget about Dumbledore? Revenge must be exacted, and he was beginning to form several ideas about how that could be done. He went back to the shelves, with a new mission, now looking for a book about disillusionment. In no time he was walking back to his dorm, 'Concealment Concoctions' in his hand and a smirk on his face.

He spent the rest of his night taking notes, mainly on the pros and cons of the potions, and sketching out several plans and plan Bs: he had always been the type of person who liked having another plan to turn to. But as his watch hand ticked towards midnight, Riddle yawned and started to lose concentration. Quickly skipping pages, he soon found himself at the end of the book, but an o of surprise formed on his mouth as he saw the large area the last potion covered. Even the instructions for this potion were written in a different font and it did not look like any normal disillusionment potion; he should know as he just spent the last hour or so studying them.

He read the pages carefully, amazed by the concoction's complexity. It had ingredients that he had not known to exist, and ones that he knew to exist, but did not know how to find. The potion's purpose: to rid the drinker of their greatest concern. Riddle's biggest concern was dying. This potion gets rid of the drinker's greatest concern. This potion could stop Riddle from dying. Happiness grew inside him as he knew this could finally be the solution. He was going to brew this potion, and he was going to make sure that Dumbledore didn't get in the way this time.

Only one month later, and Riddle was sat in front of a cauldron. Inside it a potion gleamed in the moonlight: a deep shade of purple. Riddle quietly laughed as he thought of his greatest desire, immortality would make him truly joyful and he couldn't wait to get it. It was with that in mind, that he ladled the brew into a cup and swallowed the disgusting mixture in a single gulp.

_So there was chapter 2, amazingly chapter 1 has been viewed in 27 different countries but I'm worried my awful writing style may have put everyone off, so here's hoping that chapter 2 can get at least half of that. Thanks to both cosmoGirl666 and Gonewiththerain09 for putting this story on their alerts :D and I hope this didn't disappoint. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Riddle sat with his shoulders hunched, completely still, waiting in anticipation for something to happen. Feeling hopeful, he scanned his surroundings expecting to see a change: something that would prove to him that he was now truly immortal. What he saw from his location at the edge of the Forbidden Forest was the castle: it was surrounded by a thick mysterious fog and its four turrets looked even more impressive against the starry backdrop.

It looked surreal, like an amazing place where anything could happen; the only thing he could liken to it was muggles Disneyworld. A place where children went one day to discover true magic, a place where no evil could happen. What the muggles should really do is recreate Hogwarts. That would amaze those simple-minded muggles endlessly, and there was no doubt in Riddle's mind that they would be foolish enough to pay their hard-earned 'dollars' just to _see_ the wonders that wizards had managed to create.

Yes, Hogwarts looked truly amazing, but the problem was that it always did. There were no changes, no remarkable transformation in his life. Riddle refused to believe that he could just become immortal like that, with no recognition from the world. Surely there should be some sort of global consequence for something so large and powerful occurring. But no, everything was still the same, nothing had seemed to change.

Riddle stood up when the sun came over the horizon. Morning had crept up on him, as he had sat on the earthy ground beside his cauldron. He had known that nothing spectacular was going to happen after the first hour, but he stayed anyway; he refused to give up so easily on something that he had put so much hope into. It had taken so much effort and time to find the ingredients, and now it felt like the situation with the horcruxes was repeating itself all over again. Yet this was worse, there was no Dumbledore to blame this time: whatever had caused this plan to fail was his own fault. Maybe he hadn't harvested the ingredients correctly, or maybe he had added them in the wrong order.

Or worse. That page had been odd, almost as if someone had stuck it in. Maybe this potion that he had spent the last month working on was nothing but a joke, and he had fallen for it. This was why Tom Riddle did not trust people: they would betray you and get one over on you, and then laugh. Anger rumbled within him, but the long night had sapped his energy, so instead of turning to destruction, he strode back towards the castle. Determined to find out who had thought up this oh-so-hilarious joke and cause them extreme pain, whether they were dead or alive.

Dipping behind a hedge to disillusion himself (at least the book hadn't been totally for nothing) he crept back up the stairs and whispered the common room password, 'Confringo'. The portrait of Elizabeth Burke, a middle-aged lady from the Victorian era who had a pursed mouth that was normally firing out snarky comments like a machine gun, swung open and let him in with a smirk. 'Staying out late, how rebellious. Though I do love a bad boy!'

Riddle resisted the want to roll his eyes, and played along with her; if he upset her she may cause a scene, and then Dumbledore was sure to cause him trouble.

'You know me, ever the rebel,' he said with a dazzling smile and a wink.

At that she giggled, actually giggled. What age did she think she was? She was no longer a school girl, in fact she was the opposite: she was dead. All that remained of her was this portrait and yet, disgustingly, she was still flirting with boys (real boys) less than half her age. Riddle quickly made his way into the Slytherin common room before his aggravation got the better of him and strode up the stairs to the dorm room that he hated; the wonderful creation of his ancestor was lowered by the presence of so many fools in one room.

Riddle detested his fellow Slytherins, but he needed people to do his dirty work sometimes so he kept up his civil pretence, only ever showing his true colours to his closest followers. And where the hell were his followers? He looked around the dorm room, lifting up duvets and glancing under beds. It was doubtful that any of them would be stupid enough to play a prank on Tom Riddle, but he had genuinely no idea where they could be, not at this time. He paced out the room and into another dorm room where it hit him: no messy clothes; no trinkets anywhere; no sign of life. It looked like everyone had moved out of Hogwarts in one night.

'Homenum Revelio' Nope, no one was there. He ran back to the portrait, determined to find out what was going on.

'Where has everyone else gone?' Riddle's brow furrowed. He was confused, and it was not a feeling he enjoyed.

'What on earth do you mean dear?' Elizabeth seductively smiled out of the painting, 'there is no one else here, only you and me... alone'

'So where have the others gone?' Riddle snapped. He was being pushed to the edge of his limit; he was used to having all the answers, and now having to extract them out of someone so dim-witted was exasperating.

'Don't you snap at me young man! You're the one asking the foolish questions. There is no one else here, there hasn't been for over 300 years.'

The portrait was getting even more frustrated as Riddle just stared at her, horror clear on his face. He stared and stared, until suddenly he ran: first to the Great Hall, then down all the corridors. He yanked each classroom door open as he went, just hoping for one single sign of life. But there was nothing, no one. Riddle had Hogwarts all to himself, something he thought he'd love, but he just felt empty. Hogwarts was not Hogwarts without the teachers to tell him fascinating things, or without the other students to continually outdo.

He stopped, maybe this was the price of immortality. He had said he was willing to do whatever it took, and he had been given it. This was a good thing. So what if Hogwarts was not what it used to be? He would just leave Hogwarts, and explore the rest of the world. Riddle smiled, thinking that he was happy this had happened, but why did the smile feel so forced. He had gotten what he wanted, hadn't he? So he better make the best of it, and try to figure out what was going on.

He walked back to the common room, determined to learn all he could about this strange new world, and only then would he decide where to go in this world. _His world. _He should be ecstatic, he had gotten what he wanted and more. But what he would give just to see one other person.

_Thanks so so so much to sweet-tang-honney, __Gabrielle Dashwood, cosmoGirl666, __That English Girl and LadyBookworm80 for reviewing, putting this story on their alerts and putting this story on their favorites I love you guys, virtual 'insert favourite thing here' for you all :D Well, that's what the potion does and Hermione's reaction will be coming up soon. For all you canon lovers, I know that Elizabeth Burke's painting is not on the Slytherin's common room door, but for this story she is, at least in Riddle's time anyway. Also, would anyone be interested in beta-reading for me? If so I would be really grateful so just pm me _


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Hermione stood up and viewed her surroundings. They were the same as ever, absolutely no difference. The more she thought about this, the more she was puzzled as to whether there should be a change or not. Could a war just be stopped like that? Surely there should be some sort of sign that it was all over. She paced up and down the grass, thinking about the legitimacy of the potion. It could quite easily have been a fake, she had taken account of that when she first saw it, but it had still been worth a try.

Despite the risk, in the end she made the choice to disapparate to Diagon alley. She still had the cloak, and it was the only place she could think of to find out if there was any change in the war, without endangering anyone. This potion had truly been her last chance, and there was nothing to lose if it had failed. So she wrapped the cloak around her and placed her cauldron in her bag, after pouring the rest of the potion into a closed flask. Before she could feel anymore disheartened, she braced herself for the pressure of apparation and thought of the one place there were unlikely to be any death eaters. The world went black and she was being pushed from all directions, as if someone was trying to shrink her.

With a pop her feet hit the floor, and she stumbled as she tried to recover from the transportation's affects. She had arrived in Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, and the shop was empty apart from the many memories it held. Sadness jerked within her as she saw the abandoned counter; she remembered that once she, Harry and Ron had bought the brightly coloured treat of ice cream as a pleasant ending to an amazing day. The three of them had, as always, met up here to buy their school supplies, and she had, as always, left with the most books, well the other two, as always, had gazed longingly at whatever new death contrapt- broom had hit the market.

There were so many 'as always' that she thought she would have forever, and yet here she was in an abandoned shop, no Harry, no Ron, no 'as always'. She tenderly caressed the memory, embracing it with her all her strength and refusing to let it go. This was what she was fighting for, so that future generations could experience as many joyful times as she had; without persecution and fear of death. Yes, Hermione was going to destroy Voldemort no matter what it took. If this potion hadn't worked she would not give up, she'd think of a new plan. That's what she was good at after all, making well thought out plans. With one last look back at that blissful memory, she left the shop, determined to find someone on her side, who could tell her what was currently happening.

She stalked up the alley, stooping low to ensure the cloak covered her feet. It was an odd feeling to walk down Diagon Alley and not see the various stalls and peddlers that used to clutter the cobbled street. The shops had all been boarded up, and their facades were plastered with posters about artificial dragon breeding, that blocked from view the wonders she knew to be there. The place felt dead, void of any excitement or life, and she didn't like it. She sped up, perplexed by the emptiness. She hadn't expected this; didn't death eaters still need equipment?

An ominous atmosphere fell as she got ever closer to Knockturn Alley, and her eyes were bombarded with the same posters: 'Ban artificial dragon breeding, they _cannot_ be tamed!' Hermione thought this was strange, as it had already been banned centuries ago at the Warlocks' Convention of 1709. Why would anyone campaign to create a law that had been put securely in place so long ago? She was sure something peculiar was going on, and she was beginning to worry about how extreme the affects of this potion may have been.

Approaching Gringotts, she smiled at the familiar site of the towering white building. If she had to face death eaters she would rather do it here than in their own turf of Knockturn Alley. She felt like an ant as she scurried through the huge bronze doors that reminded her of the muggles' idea of the gate to heaven. She immediately noticed a goblin at the reception desk, but apart from that the place seemed deserted.

She softly stepped towards him, spinning as she went so to keep a look out for anyone else around.

'I know you're there.' A deep voice echoed behind her.

Hermione swivelled back to the goblin, shocked. She looked down to see if she had somehow been careless and shown her feet, but the cloak was still amply covering them.

'Good contraption you've got there, probably goblin made.' The goblin replied, his glassy black eyes peering at her behind gold spec frames,

'Maybe.' Hermione replied, aware that it was best to keep her doubt to herself. She was shocked that someone had been able to know she was there. 'Can you see me?'

'No, I could hear you. What do you think these large ears are for?' The goblin pointed a long finger towards his giant pointed ears and smiled, amused. Now that she looked at him directly she could see that he had bushy grey hair that spurted out of his ears, nose and eyebrows; but not a strand on his head. His face had deep wrinkles around the eyes and mouth, which conveyed a life that had been well lived and full of laughter. She removed the cloak and tentatively smiled back.

'Are there any death eaters near?' Hermione again scanned the bank's lobby, wary that taking the cloak off may have been a bad decision.

'Death eaters? Never heard of those, are they a magical device of some sort? When were they invented? '

'They are no device, they are pure evil; people who have lost their mercy and follow a man who has lost so much humanity he now looks more like a snake than a human being.' Hermione shuddered just from the thought of Voldemort

'Interesting. I'm afraid you will find me quite behind the times, over 300 years behind the times to be exact.' He again flashed a smile, this time showing some yellow gnarled teeth that looked on the verge of crumbling; but this just gave the friendly goblin further character and Hermione couldn't help but like him.

But still, she was rather bemused by his statement. 'I'm afraid I don't understand.'

'Well, I came to this world in the 1600s when Wystan Hugelbert created it. Great man, planned to hide his closest friends here to keep them safe during the Goblin Rebellion. But he went back to get them and never returned,' the goblin's face held the pangs of grief for a fleeting second, 'I've been rather starved of company since, so it's very nice to meet you.' His smile returned as he spoke.

'It's nice to meet you too, but are you saying it's just me and you here?'

'Yes, just us. Oh and Rucket the house elf up at Hogwarts. I was just planning to go visit him for tea tomorrow, he'd be excited to meet you. Hasn't had a human to serve in ages you see, makes him very self-loathing.'

'Oh, but doesn't he like the freedom?' Memories of SPEW flooded her mind, and it suddenly dawned on her. This can't be real? She couldn't have been flung from her life just like that, and placed in this crazy new world. How in anyway could she stop the war trapped in a world with no-one but a goblin and a house-elf. Was it really possible that the unlikely trio could stop the war. The Golden trio hadn't, yet if this was a chance she had to follow it.

She placed the petrified thought of being stuck practically alone in this world forever out of her mind and sat beside the goblin. She would find out more about her bizarre situation, and then she would work out how the hell she was to stop a war in such a place. Wasn't there at least one other human here? She couldn't help but think that the company of someone her own height would make life here a little less daunting.

_Thanks to JesseLou, innocentrini, ilovehappyendings and JC1988 for putting this story on their alerts and their favourites and a HUGE thanks to Gabrielle Dashwood for reviewing, all you guys are the best :D made this chapter get out all that much faster. Also, if you like tom/Hermione fics I suggest checking out 'Love doesn't need a Horcrux' by ( I tried a link but it didn't work, anyone know how to get links on ff? ) __:) well i hope u enjoyed the chapter and please review :D_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Hermione had been deep in discussion with the goblin for hours, mainly about the bank. The goblin seemed to know everything there possibly was to know about the place, and was highly interested in questioning Hermione about its current future. He had also told her more about the man who created this world, if that's what you would call it, and the world itself. It covered the whole of the UK, but no further, as Hugelburt could only do so much. He was a war hero supposedly, though she had never heard of him.

'That's because he saved lives, instead of killing people, or goblins for that matter. As great as some wizards are, as a nation you tend to ignore anybody who's not one hundred percent on your side.'

He had given Hermione a lot to think about but soon night had fallen, and so the goblin had reluctantly led her to the night chambers to get some well-earned sleep. Together they walked down several narrow corridors and Hermione had to crouch so her head didn't hit the ceiling. After a very awkward walk, they approached the goblin's quarters where there were about fifty identical rooms: simplistically decorated with cream walls, a single bed, table, chair and a small wardrobe. All were very cramped and the ceilings were still too low for her to stand straight.

'Which one would you like?' the goblin beamed at her, 'great choice, huh?'

'Any is fine, thanks. Before I forget, I'm Hermione. And you are...'

'I was wondering when you would ask that. It's nice to meet you Hermione, and it's Gringott, the name's Gringott.' She stared, disbelieving. There was no way that she had spent the day talking to the most famous goblin in existence. Her mind searched through all she had read, and the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. The time line fit and the goblin had an extraordinary knowledge of the bank.

'It's much nicer to meet you,' she replied with a laugh. Taking a key to room 46, she collapsed onto two beds that she had pushed together and drifted into a sleep, where she dreamt the whole surreal day all over again.

'Oh, shut up!' Riddle screamed at Elizabeth. The portrait had, for the last two hours, been telling him the _fascinating_ story of how she had won Slytherin's good deed award _three_ years in a row (after showing a large devotion to insulting mudbloods and other such charitable pursuits). The story had been irritating enough in itself, but added with the fact that it drowned out the murmur he was sure he could here beneath their (well his) feet, it had caused him to snap.

He had been charming her for the whole day and all he had learned was that this world had been created by a man called 'Wizen Huggelburf or some sort of silly name like that', who was 'a stupid meddling Gryffindor'. The other endless hours had been filled with talk about her amazing life and rather obvious 'hints' about how she was currently romantically available. Girls always seemed so desperate, especially in painting form, trying too hard to show off all the wrong qualities. And on top of that he was yet to meet one that could match him intellectually.

And of all the girls born in the last millennium he was talking to the most infuriatingly daft one. He had hoped his outburst would shut her up, but instead Elizabeth proceeded to howl in what Riddle could merely guess was some attempt at crying. He quickly dashed away from the high pitched wailing, determined not only to find the source of the underground murmuring, but also to escape the portrait before he destroyed the only source of information he had in this place.

'Lumos' he quickly whipped out his wand and let it guide him down the corridor. This was his second night here, and Riddle was starting to regret his decision to take the potion. He had never craved normal human company more, even though that in itself didn't mean much. Even in these past few days Riddle was changing for the better and, though he would never admit it, the idea of friendship was no longer repulsive to him; he now felt indifference towards it, due to his recent recognition of the emotions which caused people to long for human connections.

'A witch, a witch, couldn't be happier if I caught a snitch,' a merry singing drifted from the kitchens, 'A witch, a witch, I'll fulfil her every whim, scratch her every itch!'

Riddle saw a house-elf dancing around the kitchen with an imaginary partner, grinning from ear to ear. 'Ahem' he coughed, trying to catch the elf's attention without imposing on its merriment. The elf span around, dropping his hands from his imaginary partner's waist, and tears started to well up in his bulging eyes.

'Don't cry!' Riddle stated, horrified. He had just gotten away from the wailing, and now he had directly walked into more.

'A wizard, a wizard, I'll stand as his ever loyal guard,' the elf's tears were falling freely now, soaking the rags that barely covered him. 'A wizard, a wizard, I'll take care of his home and his yard.'

'Master!' The elf exclaimed as he flung himself at Riddle.

'Get off!' Riddle violently shook his arm in an attempt to unfasten the elf, but it was clinging to him and refusing to let go. He stood for a minute, contemplating the situation, until he was saved by his grumbling stomach.

'Master hungry, Rucket make master something!' The elf swiftly disengaged himself from Riddle's cloak. If it was possible, the elf now seemed even happier than before and immediately went to preparing food. Riddle took a curious look at the ingredients, suspicious of possible mould and decay, but everything appeared to be fresh.

'Can I ask where the food comes from?'

'It travels through a magical torrent between this world and the other' the elf reeled the statement off as if he had repeated it many a time.

'Really? Who created it?' Riddle asked, his interest again engaged. This elf had told him more than the old biddy in a matter of minutes, and on top of that he was useful and ready to serve. Riddle pulled up a stool, feeling much more optimistic about achieving his ultimate goal of immortality.

'My master, Wystan Hugelbert, of course. Don't you know him? Didn't he send you here?' the elf looked up from his cooking, panic in his eyes. Riddle thought carefully, not wanted to lose the elf's trust before he had gained it; and he was such a useful source of information too.

'Ah, yes, he did send me here, in a way. He left a... gateway, so to speak, for me to take.'

'Oh good, Rucket does not want to defy his master, but he so desperately wants to serve.' The elf smiled up at him, and Riddle smiled back with relief.

'Wait, you were singing about a witch.' A hope sparked within Riddle, maybe the portrait was wrong about no-one else being here, it wasn't unlikely that she could be. An elf _and_ a witch, things would certainly be looking up if that was true.

'Yes, two new masters in one day! A happy day! A very happy day! The elf started dancing again, until he guiltily looked back at the food he was preparing and got straight back to work.

'Where is this witch? Is she here? At Hogwarts?'

'No, no. She's at the bank with Gringott. They're coming for tea tomorrow.' With a final flip of the frying pan, the elf served up a feast.

'Um, wouldn't it have been better to prepare all the food tomorrow then?' Riddle questioned as he scanned the buffet which the elf had produced in mere minutes.

'Haha, this is not for tomorrow's tea. This is for master!' The elf looked jubilantly at what he had created, 'Anything else, master?'

'No, this is perfectly fine. Thank you, Rucket.' Riddle had caught onto the elves name when the elf had mentioned earlier it in conversation. Riddle was the sort of person who never missed a detail.

'You're welcome, master. Rucket will prepare upstairs bedroom for master if he pleases, as it is late.'

'Thank you, that would be very kind of you,' Riddle felt awkward conveying such regular displays of gratitude, but it only felt right when he was getting such a personalised service. As the elf hopped away, Riddle thought of all he had said. There was a witch, and a goblin he presumed, though that statement had been rather unclear. He thought excitedly of tomorrow when he could meet this witch, and judge if she would be any quality of company. Maybe she could even help him gain immortality; he dearly hoped so.

_Thanks to AliceMary Whitlock Cullen-Hale for putting this on her favourites and a HUGE UBER AWESOME thanks to __Gabrielle Dashwood, Katherine'-'Snape, , cosmoGirl666 and brighteyes2889 for reviewing. It's seriously the reason I managed to get this out today Also I promise they will meet next chap, just wanted to establish some context and other characters first._

_Some questions: 1. Does anyone know how to get those line things, you know the horizontal ones that split up the writing? 2. I'm still looking for a beta-reader, so anyone interested? If you are then thanks and please review/pm me _

_Well i hope you enjoyed this chapter and please please review :D_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

'Oh, Merlin,' Hermione groaned in pain; the night's sleep had not been good. The two small beds which she had had pushed together had drifted apart in the night, causing her not only back pain, but an aching neck too. Her night had started sweet, but as the bed had shifted so had the nature of her dreams, they had started with a lovely tea party at Hogwarts where the house elf at Hogwarts told her that she had convinced him into loving his freedom and taking full advantage of being able to do whatever his little elf soul desired. But soon dark fell and guests joined, wandering souls that occasionally screamed, and blocked her path when she tried to move.

Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore, Dobby: all refusing to let her leave. Hounding her, harassing her, begging her to give them their lives back. Even Dobby, who had been nothing but happy and caring in life, took the form of a zombie, no trace of his soul in those large bulging eyes. But in its place a vengeful creature chasing her, demanding her to explain how she could be thinking of tea parties. Hermione felt guilt flood her as she could not believe that she had for one minute forgotten to think about this tea party as anything less than a way to stop the war. There were enough dead already; she had to stop there from being more.

She woke up clammy and tense. Not looking forward to the day, and fearing the impossible task ahead.

Tom Riddle woke up with a smile on his face, excitedly anticipating the day ahead. He had dreamt of a beautiful angel of a witch with overflowing brown hair and glowing hazel eyes. She had told him the world's deepest secrets and left with a single lingering kiss. And even though he couldn't remember it, its affects lasted through the morning. He hadn't even needed to fake smile at Rucket when the elf had come in with an overloaded breakfast tray.

'Good morning, Rucket'

'Good morning Master,' the elf placed the tray on Riddle's lap, which was piled with cakes and pastries, 'would master like anything else?'

'Haha, no thank you, Rucket. This is perfectly fine, wonderful in fact!' The elf just smiled, unaware of the oddity of Riddle's behaviour.

Yet, anyone who really knew Riddle would be confounded by his strange surge of joy. But even more than that, they would be frightened by how horrific the after affects could be. But there was no one here to see Riddles lapse in personality, so his happiness continued. And soon it was time for the tea party that he'd been waiting for.

Hermione and Gringott meandered down the abandoned street, with the purpose of finding Hermione some new clothes to wear in what appeared to be becoming a long stay.

'This whole street's full of wizard's shops, I'm sure we can find you an excellent set of robes,' Gringott attempted to walk in pace with her, his short legs meaning that he had to take double the number of steps.

'That's great, I swear I wouldn't know what to do without you as a tour guide. I'd probably still be skulking around Knockturn Alley.' She smiled at the thought, as it wasn't a place where a do-gooder such as herself often went, 'Do you happen to know if there are any shops that sell muggle clothes around here?'

'Yes, they're on the outskirts of town. Some really strange looking things in there,' his brow furrowed as if the clothes were such an oddity that they disturbed him. Hermione had to laugh.

'They can't be that bad, I'm sure they'll have some jeans or something.'

She had been wrong. It had somehow slipped her mind that the travel back in time would also mean a travel back in fashion. And there was nothing in the shop window that even slightly resembled a pair of jeans; just a mass of ruffles, lace, and puffiness galore. There was row after row of regal looking dresses, which Hermione had only ever seen at elaborate costume parties or in medieval dramas.

She was horrified by the idea of having to live in one of these all day. Their bodices, which were made of tough whale bone, looked as if they may crush your insides and the metal underskirts actually looked like some sort of torture device. Yet, Hermione still had a small part of her that couldn't wait to try one on. To stand in front of the mirror and see what she would look like as a noble form the past, as if almost trying one on would give her a taste of living in the era itself.

'Here,' said Gringott, 'What about this one?' he elevated his stumpy arms to full height, trying to give her a good view of the dress. She had already instructed him by this point that he was to look for the least extravagant thing he could find, and he had done well as this dress was much more suitable than anything Hermione herself had managed to procure.

It was a deep purple colour with a tight fitting bodice, a v-shaped collar and a tulip shaped skirt that came down to knee length, which then had fabric coming from underneath this to the ground to completely cover her legs, as know respectable lady in those days would be seen flashing excess flesh.

'That's perfect,' the goblin's seemed to grow in height as she quickly relieved him of the heavy clothing and she headed off into another room to try it on. She whipped off her current clothing, which was now looking worse for wear after its overnight use, and neatly placed it on a chair. Her fingers lingered on the denim for a second, as she remembered all the many experiences she had lived through in jeans. They were her staple garment, and she wasn't quite sure how she's live without them, but she guessed she would soon find out.

After a large amount of flailing and some military combat, Hermione finally managed to get the dress over her head and her arms through the appropriate holes. However, it was not over, as then she had to proceed to round two of the fight, where she attempted to lace up the back. This again took a rather long time due to the difficulty of not only being unable to see what she was doing, but also from the fact that arms are only meant to bend in certain ways, and backwards is not one of them.

But eventually the dress was on, and as Hermione glance in the mirror she realised that the struggle had rather messed up her hair, leaving her plait askew and coming undone. So she tugged out the bobble and let her hair fall over her shoulders, surprised by the wavy look it took on.

Turning around to check she was happy with all angles of the dress, she finally decided she was satisfied and went to meet Gringott.

'Can we go now?' the goblin gave her a hopeful look. Hermione rolled her eyes, was there no area of the planet where men hated shopping?

'Lead the way,' she outstretched a hand towards the door, and the goblin hurriedly moved out the shop and towards Hogwarts.

'But I also need quills,' she murmured as they left, fully prepared for the groan that followed, which was surprisingly loud considering the size of its maker.

Dusk was approaching, and Hogwarts looked as magnificent as ever. Through the mist, two shadowy figures could be seen gliding towards the entrance; one tall and graceful, the other short with a slight hunch-back.

The shorter figure fiddled with the Hogwarts door, whereas Hermione just stood back and appreciated the sight of something so familiar.

'I'm sure you'll love Rucket. Dopey little creature, but hard not to like if you know what I mean?' The goblin interrupted her thoughts.

'But are you sure he loves serving? Are you sure it's not just the brainwashing he's received from cruel prejudiced wizards?' A crease appeared between Hermione's eyebrows, as she thought of SPEW and the success with which she had distributed knitted clothing during her earlier school years. She wondered what those elves were...

'It's nice to see some other human company in this, um, secluded place,' Surprised by the low voice she looked up and two pairs of hazel eyes connected. Hermione stared at the person in front of her and found herself taken aback by his handsome features. But more than that, she was stunned by his smile. She even thought for a minute it had blinded her.

Until she realised that she was actually losing her sight, and her hearing, and her sense of touch. She trembled slightly, desperately trying to keep a hold of her consciousness. But her attempts were futile and with a thud of impact Hermione's appreciative thoughts fled, and she was left lying on Hogwart's cold stone floor; her body warped in the awkward position she had fallen, and beside her, a similarly distorted figure of an attractive dark-haired boy.

_My extreme apologies for not updating sooner. Busy is not the word, but I have slightly more time now so updates should at least be weekly. Ok, so it's not the meeting you were probably hoping for but I can't have a story with no plot, but I promise there will be tomxhermione interactions next chapter. I would like to thank all those who favourited and special thanks to TypicalIndianTennisPlayer, imaginexthat, alannalove1990, literaturefreak6 and the ever loyal Gabrielle Dashwood for reviewing Virtual cute friendly pets for you all! I'm still looking for a beta-reader, anyone interested? I hope you enjoy this chapter and reviews are greatly greatly appreciated :D_

_Review responses - _

_Alannalove1990 – they took the potions in different years, as I wanted to make it so that they were both 17. If any chapters are in the 'real' world, then there is a year at the top, so referring to that should stop any confusion. As to the other question, I can't answer that kind of thing ;) you'll have to keep reading and find out._

_Literaturefreak6 – thank you for your blatancy, I will try and ensure everything goes a little faster. I realise I can be a little slow with descriptions and unnecessary detail so I'll try to stop myself _


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